Fable
by Gummi Baron
Summary: Modern AU. Jaded rock legend Rumplestiltskin meets his match in the unexpected form of a blue-eyed college graduate who couldn't care less about his fame or his music.
1. Chapter 1

There wasn't enough gas station coffee in the world to make a six A.M. alarm appealing to Belle French, especially when it was pushed under her nose while she tried to hide beneath the scratchy covers of a nameless hotel room bed.

"Wakie wakie," The over-sweet, crooning voice of her roommate called from outside the warm sanctuary of the comforter, and Belle resisted the gentle tugs that were slowly pulling the fabric out of her curled fingers. "Time to get on the road, sunshine!"

"Go away," She croaked, pushing what she'd bet was under-sugared coffee bribe out from under her nest. "It's too early for this crap, Ruby."

Two different weights settled on either side of Belle's feet, and she suppressed a groan as Mary Margaret spoke, her voice teasing.

"We're going to do this the hard way then, Belle, and you know how much I _love_ doing that."

"I think I'm equal to the challenge," Protested Belle, getting a better grasp on the itchy sheets. Four years of college with these girls had prepared her for a great many things, and abrupt and rude awakenings in the wee hours of the morning were thankfully one of them. She was groggy but awake, and so technically she'd already lost, but ripping the sheets from her had been a routine for as long as she'd known Mary Margaret and Ruby, and she steeled herself for the ensuing fight.

"Belle, can't you just get up _once?" _Asked Aurora, who Belle guessed was the other indention in the mattress at her feet. "We aren't even at the University anymore. Do we have to _always_ do this?"

"Yes." Belle replied stubbornly, sniggering when she felt Mary Margaret and Aurora stand and grab a fistful of the sheets near the foot of the bed.

"Some things never change," Tutted Ruby with mock disdain, and Belle shrieked as the covers were ripped from her, exposing her to the cold pre-dawn chill of the poorly heated hotel room.

"Wait!" She shouted, kicking her feet when a set of hands each grabbed one of her ankles and began to tug. As much as she enjoyed playing their old school routine, she didn't care much for how it ended; namely, being shoved beneath a cold shower fully dressed. "I'm up, I'm up!"

"You've got ten minutes," Ruby told her with a laugh, pushing the gas station cup of coffee into Belle's hand once she'd sat up. "We're going to throw the stuff in the car and then go grab whatever this dump considers a continental breakfast in the lobby before we hit the road, alright?"

"If you aren't there by the time we finish we're going to leave you!" Mary Margaret called playfully, following Aurora and Ruby out the door, and Belle blew them all a playful, grumpy kiss before standing and stretching.

"Some things never change," Belle grumbled, swirling the contents of the paper cup before, with a wary look, taking a sip. She grimaced. It was, as she'd suspected, under sweetened. She _hated_ mornings.

"Belle!" Ruby called, waving Belle over when she wandered into the tiny lobby ten minutes later, duffel bag in tow, and she took in the scene as she walked over to the single plastic table set in its own little nook that she could only guess was intended to be a dining area, a few boxes of cereal scattered between the three of them. There was a young man she didn't recognize sitting at Ruby's elbow, a nametag plastered onto his chest, and he waved at her when she approached like they were old friends.

As she's suspected, he was from the front desk, and Ruby seemed to have completely him over. Aurora and Mary Margaret looked amused by the way he was overtly fawning over her, sitting close enough to the tall woman to make a normal person uncomfortable, but Ruby was handling the attention with effortless grace. She was beautiful; long and lean, and Belle would bet a hefty sum the young man wouldn't be the last to fall victim to her charm.

"Hurry over here and eat, we've gotta get going if we're gonna make it to New York by tonight!" Ruby was positively squirming, bubbling over with more excitement than any normal person should be able to conjure at six thirty in the morning, and Belle couldn't help but smile.

"Morning to you too," Belle called in greeting, settling in between Aurora and the front desk clerk, who immediately turned to her and introduced himself as she filled a Styrofoam bowl with some nondescript, off-brand form of Wheaties and committed to the task of eating the stuff.

"So, you ladies are headed to NYC? Where from?" The clerk asked.

"The U of M," Ruby said, raising her eyebrows at him sweetly. "Heard of it?"

"University of Massachusetts?"

"Maine," Mary Margaret corrected, giggling. "We're not from around here."

"Good school," He replied, nodding eagerly. "So, you started in Maine, you're here in Boston today, but New York City tonight? Sounds like a fun little road trip. Let off some steam before you've gotta pick it all back up in the fall, am I right?"

It was clear from his blank stare when asked about their school that the young man had any idea what he was talking about, but he seemed eager to please, and friendly enough.

Aurora chirped up quietly, sounding proud.

"We all just graduated, actually." She _always_ sounded proud when she talked about their school, with good reason; she and Belle had graduated near the top of their class. Not that either of them ever brought it up. "Belle and I were at the top of our class!" Aurora added, sharing a secret little wink with her. Nope. Never.

"Oh!" He said, grinning at the four of them. "So, one last bit of fun before the real world sets in then, eh?"

Ruby leaned over and nudged Belle's shoulder, pouting. "And before this one goes back to the land down under and leaves us all behind."

The man turned to look at her, and Belle inwardly groaned at the wide-eyed look of fascination on his face. She knew what was coming, but she still gave the guy a patient look when he spoke.

"Woah, a real life Aussie! Do you have an accent? Say something Australian!"

"Sorry," She said, stuffing her mouth full with the last of her cereal to talk around it and gesturing to herself helplessly. Four years of living in the States hadn't dulled her dislike of people commenting on her accent, and she was _more_ than ready to stop hearing the same demands over and over from every person she talked to.

"She's shy," Ruby whispered conspiratorially to the young guy, saving Belle the trouble of coming up with another excuse when she swallowed her food. That was a lie, of course; Belle was perfectly conversational, but it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last time that Ruby saved her from this situation; after four years of sharing the same tiny dorm room together, Ruby didn't need Belle's input to know when she was needed. She also had only asked Belle to 'say something Australian' for the first month they'd been roommates, which had to be some sort of record.

"Belle came to the State's for school," Aurora patiently explained. "We've been friends since freshman year, but she hasn't gotten the chance to see anything except the snowy tundra of Maine, which is completely unfair."

Belle could only shrug helplessly, amused, when the clerk made a disapproving noise.

"Her Student Visa is running out at the end of the summer, so we all thought, 'What the hell, let's go spend the summer showing off the States', right?" Mary Margaret added in, leaning over and wrapping an arm around Belle's shoulder. "Why not?"

"Sounds like fun!" The clerk said, nervously fidgeting when Belle stood up to toss out the Styrofoam

bowl and plastic cutlery. He was obviously trying to stall them for time and, Belle suspected by the way his eyes never left Ruby for too long, her number. He looked upset when the other three stood along with Belle, gathering their things. "Uh, where are you ladies headed then? All summer is a long time to be on a road trip."

"Los Angeles," Belle told him, returning to the table and resting her arms on the back of her empty chair as she leaned down. As much as she hated the attention her accent garnered, the look of wonder on unsuspecting people's faces always amused her. "Apparently, California is _the_ place to go when you're on a whirlwind road trip. At least, that's what I've been told."

He swallowed convulsively, his mouth dropping open before he spoke. "Oh—uhm-yeah! _Totally_."

They made their way to the front desk, much to the young man's chagrin, and Ruby was signing for their tab before something odd about the clerks chatter, a sound she'd already begun to tune out in the half hour she'd known him, interrupted Belle's reverie.

Something about the way that Ruby, Mary Margaret, and Aurora had tensed at a question before sending quick glances her way made her uneasy, and the clerk looked stricken when she fixed him with her stare.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked, sidetracked from her thoughts. She'd been daydreaming; thinking about life after the summer and all the fun things she hoped they'd see before she had to go, forcing herself back to the present.

"Sorry, you were all so excited about it before she came down, I thought she knew—"

"Because it was a _secret_!" Hissed Ruby, glaring at the young man, and Belle narrowed her eyes at her three companions.

"Thought I knew _what,_ Ruby?" She asked, suspicious, suddenly beginning to wonder about the strict schedule the other three girls had so carefully constructed. She'd thought they were just being careful with their time; they had all summer to make it across the country, but there was a _lot_ they'd all wanted to see, and Belle had just assumed that the money they'd all scrimped and saved over the last four years had been a factor. For them to have an ulterior schedule that she wasn't privy to...

"Okay, okay." Ruby held up her hands, shooting a glare at the young man. "I'll explain in the car, let's just—get on the road."

"You got us tickets for _what?!" _Belle demanded an hour later, her hands fists on the headrests of the driver and passenger seats, leaning between them from the back seat of Ruby's old Land Cruiser.

"Fable," Ruby said, her voice sounding small despite the amused, smug look on her face. She dug in the center console and retrieved a handful of CD's, waving them at her, and Belle took them, glancing at the covers. The first seemed to be the oldest; three men and a blonde woman looked back at her, all looking young and wild and carefree. The other two CD covers seemed newer, simple and aggressive designs that incorporated a tribal F in some way, but when she flipped over the most recent case one of the men from the first cover glared at her through the printed words, looking older and haggard with a mane of brown hair, shocks of grey at his temples though he appeared to only be somewhere in his thirties. His hands were curled like claws around the neck of a guitar.

"That's one of the singers," Mary Margaret explained, noticing Belle's interest. "Rumplestiltskin. He and the blonde woman," She flipped over one of the other CD's to reveal the a woman who looked somewhere around Belle's age, looking older but not nearly as haggard as the man in the other cover had. "Are the main two in the band."

Belle huffed in distaste.

"We're in New York City, _the_ _big apple itself_, for two days and we're going to spend one of them going to some crappy _rock concert_ rather than, oh, I don't know, Broadway, or to any of the _hundreds_ of one of a kind museums, or—"

"_Crappy rock concert?" _Sputtered Mary Margaret and Ruby at the same time, turning to look over their shoulders at her, and suddenly Auroras hand was on her shoulder, pulling her down to the backseat.

"Ruby," Aurora chided, "You're gonna get us killed, eyes on the road." She turned to Belle, narrowing her eyes. "Belle, it's not 'some crappy band', it's _Fable."_

Someone who had never met Aurora, the quietest of the four of them, would hear her tone and assume she was simply trying to calm the tension caused by the conversation that had exploded around her, but Belle knew the shy little thing well enough to groan and roll her eyes.

"Aurora! You too?!"

Aurora smiled shyly, looking out the window in feigned disinterest in the conversation, but the obvious reverence in her words betrayed her. "What? It's _Fable_, Belle. They're like…legends. And to see them in _New York?_" She snorted delicately, resting her cheek on her palm. "Is _way_ better than going to some flash in the pan Broadway show."

When the quiet brunette had something to say, which was fairly uncommon, they listened, and Belle could see Ruby watching her triumphantly in the rearview mirror.

"Besides," Added Ruby, sounding amused at the silence that proceeded Aurora's statement. "It's just one night. There will be plenty of time for sightseeing tomorrow. How many museums and old libraries did we let you drag us to in Boston and Maine, Belle? Just consider this paying us back."

Belle leaned back in her seat, debating. She _had_ begged to at least stop into every museum and bookstore in the four years she'd known them, and most of the time they'd tagged along without more than a few playful complaints each time, and she owed the other three girls. She'd never been to a concert, but it was a lack of interest rather than any real resentment towards the event that made her hesitant.

It was just—rock had never been her genre; she'd been teased relentlessly in high school over her love of gentler music; indie, folk, bluegrass. Rock music was _rough_, all hard edges and sharpness, and the thought of being crowded by hundreds of people in too-small of a space made her nervous. She wouldn't admit to being claustrophobic, but even being stuck in the little red SUV they were travelling in made her a little nauseous on occasion.

"Have you already bought the tickets?" She asked, and was rewarded immediately by disbelieving guffaws.

"Have we—_yes_, Belle." Mary Margaret said, turning around in the passenger seat to fix Belle with an amused and disbelieving look. "Fable is playing a sold out world tour. We had to buy these tickets _months_ ago. We hardly got them even then."

"Oh," Said Belle, leaning back against the seat as she considered that. "You got a ticket for me, to a band that I've never heard of?"

"Well, we weren't going to go without you," Ruby said, sounding amused. "We've been trying since we bought them to get you into them. They're that band that was conspicuously always on the radio in the kitchen at the dorms—remember?"

"No." Said Belle honestly, trying to recall. She'd learned to tune out her roommates music choices, usually to lost in a book or her own headphones to take much interest. "I can't say I ever noticed. Why didn't you just point them out?" Aurora stifled a snigger behind her hand, and Belle looked at her. "What?"

"We _did."_ Came the brunettes quiet reply. "Ruby and Mary Margaret came up with a whole plan the night they bought the tickets. Ruby turned them on the next morning and you came out of your room and said—"

"I believe her exact words were, 'Turn the garbage disposal off, it sounds like there's a cat stuck in it'." Complained Ruby, and Belle immediately flushed.

"Oh," Said Belle, suddenly remembering. They'd been up late the night before, and she'd been on the verge of oversleeping her morning class, and Ruby had taken it upon herself to wake her up by cranking up their old radio as loud as it would go, howling along with the grinding music. She'd had no idea it was her roommates attempt at making her _like_ the music, but she could think of about a hundred ways that the taller woman could have done it more tactfully than a rude wake-up call. "_That_ band."

"After that, we were a little more subtle about trying to get you into them, but you never seemed interested." Aurora added, the little smile still on her face. "But now you'll get an hour or two of uninterrupted Fable time at the show, and they can probably do a better job of convincing you than we did."

"So, it's just a concert?" Belle asked hesitantly. "I've never been to one. it's just..listening to live music and dancing?"

The other three girls exchanged looks that made Belle nervous before nodding unconvincingly.

"Mostly."

"Besides, if you don't go, we're just going to hawk your ticket for big money outside the venue," Teased Mary Margaret, and Ruby shot Belle a pleading look in the rearview.

"Come on, Belle, it'll be fun!" She whined, sticking out her lower lip and giving Belle her best puppy-dog look. "Please?"

Belle paused for a minute for effect, making a show of thinking about it. She'd never considered _not_ going; they'd bought a ticket for her after all, but doing it without asking her and keeping the show a secret until the day-of made her suspicious that there was much more to the event that they weren't telling her, and she had to get in her playful revenge somehow. Finally, she sighed deeply, amused.

She'd just have to take her chances and trust that whatever they were trying to shield her from was nothing she couldn't handle. "Fine, I'm in."

"Yes!" Cried the other three, Ruby pumping her fist in the air. "I promise Belle, it'll be _so _much fun. And then, tomorrow, we can go sightsee."

"New York is only four hours away," Belle said, laughing. "We'll be there before noon, guys. We can get some sightseeing in before the show."

"Actually…" Hedged Mary Margaret, biting her lip to stifle a giggle and exchanging an amused look with Ruby. "The concert is at seven thirty, but—we should probably head over to stand in line as soon as we get settled into the hotel."

"Why?" Belle asked, immediately rewarded with a laugh from the other three girls. Aurora wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a hug when she tensed nervously, delighted with her ignorance.

"Oh, Belle. Just try to think of it as an educational experience. Trust me, in the next twelve hours, you're going to learn _so_ much."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! I've been toying with this idea for a while, and thought I'd submit the first little bit just to see what kind of reception it got while I continue to work on Brand New Start. It was too fun of an idea to pass up.**

**Fable, Rumplestiltskin, and the rest of his mysterious band-mates will show up in the next chapter. Please let me know what you think! ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

Rumplestiltskin had played his fair share of venues over the years, but Irving Plaza in New York Fucking City was a fresh experience.

He'd been to the city before. He didn't much care for it. Everything was too closed in, too tall; and as he leaned forward to eye the venue through the window of the tour bus; shoved between two other buildings—it didn't make an immediately positive impression.

Someone elbowed him roughly in the ribs, jostling to get a better view of the place, and he snarled. Not that it did him any good, now or ever.

"Plenty a' goddamn windows on this side of the bloody bus, Emma." He growled, which only earned him a playful smack to the side of his head.

"Easy, old man." The blonde chided, ignoring his frustration as she leaned over and studied the outside of the venue, whistling lowly. "So, this is Irving Plaza in the big apple, is it? Looks fancy."

"Hope the bloody acoustics are better than Toronto." Came an accented complaint from somewhere over his shoulder, and he turned his head towards the sound to see his fellow guitarist leaning down at the window to his right, resting his forehead on his arm over the glass. "Last place was complete shit."

He gestured towards the cramped space around him, where Emma was taking up most of the window and seat meant for one. "What's wrong, Killian? Too good to join the crowd in my lap?"

An overly-manicured eyebrow quirked at him in response. "Don't count on it, mate."

He grunted when the painful weight of their drummer crashed down on his lap, the wild-haired youth grabbing Emma by the shoulders and effectively ripping her from the window.

"I want to _see!"_

"Fuckitall, Jefferson, I _just_ said there are plenty of goddamn—"

A manic giggle cut off his protests, so he simply shoved the younger man into the window, cursing as fought his way out from under Jefferson and away from Emma, giving up the spot he'd claimed _sixteen bloody hours ago_ in favor of keeping the feeling in his legs. They'd all been stuck in the bus with Jefferson since the last stop, and the lad had the nasty habit of becoming a handful after a while.

Two hours was a handful. Sixteen was just fucking _torture._

It was best to just let the kid have what he wanted, but relenting to his whims put Rumplestiltskin in an even nastier mood, and he growled when Killian slapped him on the shoulder.

"Someone needs to let Jefferson out." Killian chuckled, scrubbing at his perpetually immaculate facial hair. The man spent _entirely_ too much time on his appearance. After a full day on the road, he still looked as if he'd just climbed out of the shower. Knowing Killian, he likely had.

His temper snapped when Emma managed to dislodge herself from the tangle with Jefferson and stumbled into him, sending them both crashing to the floor.

"That's it!" He howled. "The next _bloody_ person who gets between me and the door—"

"Someone needs to let _Gold_ out," Jefferson sniggered conspiratorially to Killian.

"—is getting my boot in their _teeth_." Gold finished with a snarl, pushing Emma off of him and advancing on Jefferson, pulling up short only when Emma grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him backwards towards the door.

"I think we could _all_ use some fresh air," Emma replied evenly, walking the ten steps it took to reach their destination and kicking at the steel door when it didn't budge. She threw her head back. "Let us _out!"_

"Waiting for security," Came the confident drawl of their manager, looking unruffled when four pairs of eyes regarded her in frustration. "I'll unlock the door the door when they get here. You four don't need any more attention brought to yourselves in this city."

"We've been on this bus for almost twenty four hours, Regina." Complained Emma, still holding a fistful of Gold's shirt. "It's _sunrise_. No one is out. Can't we just—"

Her argument was cut short when Regina stalked over, going toe to toe with the blonde as she spoke with venomous sweetness. "No. Besides, you've been on this bus for _almost twenty four hours, _Emma. What's another five minutes?"

Emma may have been deterred but Gold wasn't, and after shimmying from Emma's grasp and a moment of analyzing the door his boot connected with the far edge of it and it swung open.

"Gold!" Regina snarled, but he waved her off, hopping down off the behemoth of a vehicle. "Get back here!"

"Fuck off, Regina." He called, his hand already sliding into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve a clear-wrapped pack, tapping it against his palm before opening it and catching a cigarette between his lips as he paced the deserted street like a caged animal. Security. _Really._

He may as well have pulled a gun on the bus, and he could feel four pairs of eyes watching from the doorway as he languidly cupped a hand before his face, lighter flashing. He could be enjoyable company, but he could only be pushed and confined and cramped for so long. They all had their triggers; their subtle little signs that they'd _taken enough shit from one another for one day, _and the nasty habit Gold had picked up as a lad in Scotland and had never completely kicked was his. He didn't smoke often, but when he needed a cigarette, it was time for everyone to shut the hell up and go away.

Shit, he kept the habit partly from the enjoyment he got out of seeing such a trained response from the others alone.

He took a slow, grateful inhale off the cheap cigarette, closing his eyes peacefully at the rush of nicotine that calmed his frayed nerves. They'd been in the bus since the previous morning, and it had been complete _hell_, but by the time he snuffed the cigarette between the pavement and the bottom of his leather boot five minutes later, he was breathing a sigh of contentment.

Emma was standing a few yards away, leaning against the side of the building with her arms crossed and watching him when he turned around.

"Feeling better?" She asked, and he spared a glance towards the empty bus and sidewalk. Aside from two men hanging back by the door of the venue, dressed in all black with SECURITY written on their shirts, he and Emma were alone. "You got pretty wound up back there. It's not like you to threaten to kick Jefferson's teeth in."

"Yah," He replied, meaning it for the first time since the previous day. "Much better. Where is everyone?"

"Inside," The blonde said in amusement. "You're going to get in trouble one day with that ability to block out the whole world when you smoke, you know."

He snorted. "If I didn't, you'd all probably be dead by now. Besides, no one'd dare to interrupt the legendary Rumplestiltskin's meditation time. No bastard that wanted to live, that is."

The younger woman just shook her head, sticking her thumb towards where the two men were standing.

"Come on, Regina wants sound check before we get to finally settle into the hotel. If we hurry, you might even have enough time to shower before she drags us back here for the show."

"The woman sure does love being early," He grumbled.

They'd all been through the ropes hundreds of times before, but the day still passed by with agonizing slowness, measured by the tension building as each hour passed. It was a well-known dance; they did an early sound check the morning of the show, partly to ensure the equipment worked, and partly because doing it as early as possible gave them more time apart to not kill one another.

Despite Emma's grumpy concern over their lack of time, sound check passed by with relieving ease and it was only a few hours later when they found themselves settling in at the Waldorf-Astoria, an elegant hotel that met the caliber of their fame.

"Too many bloody frills and old furniture," He complained, bouncing on Emma's bed not ten minutes after Regina had pressed key cards for their own individual suites into their palms with threats to stay clear of one another and prepare for the event that night. "I don't like it here."

"Well, according to Regina it's famous." Emma told him, glancing at him in the mirror from across the room where she sat applying a thin layer of makeup. "And you know how much she likes elegant old things. Are you surprised that this was her choice?"

"No." He sighed, laying back and kicking a throw pillow off the bed sullenly, quiet for a minute before he turned his head to look at her.

Emma was one of his oldest friends; the total of which he could count on a single hand, and he knew the lass hadn't had the easiest upbringing. They didn't speak of their past to one another, only their shared history-it was one of the things he liked about the younger woman who he considered family-but they'd been in similar, dead-end situations when they'd met in Boston years before.

"You ever been here, Em? Without the band, I mean."

It was a safe topic; Emma was a self-proclaimed wanderer, and every time Fable had been to Manhattan before now they'd arrived just in time to do a show and stayed only long enough to get some sleep before departing again. The younger woman would enjoy having the ability to sightsee.

Emma just shook her head. "Never. Always wanted to, though. You?"

"Not in years and years, since I got off the boat from Scotland. Was a wee, broke lad back then. Little younger than you, actually. Early twenty-something. I forget."

"Well," The blonde turned to look at him. "Now you've got three days to look the place over, and I bet you never thought you'd be staying in a ritzy place like this the first time you were here."

It had been a long time-almost a decade-since he'd had any non-band time in New York Fucking City last, and at the time he'd been grateful for a shitty hole in the wall motel in the slums. He merely shrugged.

"I'm not interested in the sights, lass. I'll probably spend my time catching up on sleep and reruns, yeah?"

She laughed. "You're going to spend your time in New York holed up in the hotel? This is the big apple, Gold. Anything could happen here."

He rolled to his feet and patted her on the shoulder good-naturedly as he headed for the door and his respective suite. "Well let's hope nothing does, yeah? I'll see you at the show."

He spent the rest of the afternoon in solitude; resuming the well-known routine and conjuring from within himself an entirely new being; the facade that he used on stage. He didn't know what the others methods were, but he smoked and paced in his room, embracing the pre-show nerves that built up and channeling them inward until he became Rumplestiltskin; a flashy, arrogant, predatory animal whose forte was taking on reporters and fans and screaming crowds with aggressive grace and fluid charm.

By the time the four of them arrived back at the venue that evening, they were able to put all squabbles and disagreements aside; the tension like a sweet inebriation that took each of them differently, and they were so deep into their stage persona's that they were able to become, _finally_, a coherent team.

On a good day, Gold considered Emma, Jefferson, and Killian friends. On a bad, they were just assholes he'd spent, in varying degrees, too much of his life with. But on stage Rumplestiltskin, Swan, Mad Hatter, and Captain Hook were a _force_; a band whose flawless performances and legendary shows had people desperate to be lucky enough to acquire a ticket to.

Tickets to their exclusive shows; held only at small venues despite their ability to easily sell out grandiose stadiums, went for however much they wanted them to and always sold for easily triple or quadruple the sale price on the street despite the already extravagant price tag. Through blood, sweat, tears, and an incredible amount of work they'd painstakingly cultivated the idea that seeing a Fable show was an _event, _and they all played their part in its success_._

It was in that mindset that they found themselves that evening; completely consumed by their stage personas, each in the throes of their own personal signs of anxiety. Hook, head to foot in black clothing reminiscent of a smarmy albeit seductive pirate, was pacing the stage before the empty venue, grumbling to himself as he played soundless chords on his unplugged guitar. He passed by Hatter sitting stock still save for the fingers that stroked the rim of the large top hat clutched in his hands, perched on one of the enormous speakers that littered the place with a distant, disturbed look in his eye. Swan, the only one fully composed, was watching Rumplestiltskin with a wary eye as he pulled on a pair of baggy, unflattering jeans to cover up the knee-high boots and suffocatingly tight leather pants.

"Rum, please tell me you aren't going to do it again." The blonde singer complained at him, playing with the sleeve of her red leather jacket, her skinny jeans tucked neatly into her soft, plaint brown boots. "The doors are in less than half an hour. People are like animals out there right now."

He pulled a soft, plain black shirt over his bare chest before rolling his eyes at her. The younger woman was like a sister to him, and she could be so damned _worrisome _sometimes_. _"It'll be fine, Swan."

"You've made a habit of it," She warned. "People are going to notice you one of these days, and then you're going to get yourself killed. You can't just go out there with no security in the hopes that no one will recognize you."

He tucked his hair into a black military style cap, making sure the premature tufts of grey above his ears that he'd had for as long as he could remember were covered before putting on a pair of black aviator glasses. Wearing regular clothes, even over his stage attire, brought back the pre-show anxiety that came when he wasn't wearing his Rumplestiltskin mask, and he switched back to her proper name as he looked at her. "I'm just going to walk out along the line, Em. Just up and down the street once, and then I'll be right back in and ready to do the show. No one is going to notice me. No one ever has, yeah?"

"Sounds like a good way to get murdered," Jefferson responded quietly, his eyes never leaving the over-large hat in his hands, and Killian stopped his pacing just long enough to shoot Gold a hard look before resuming.

"Let the old man do what he wants."

He raised his eyebrows at Emma, gesturing to himself with a smirk when she didn't look convinced.

"People are looking for fucking knee-high boots and leather trousers, not some bloody jackass in baggy old pants having a smoke. Not in New York Fucking City. Don't worry so much."

He patted her heavily on the shoulder as he sauntered past, and he could feel the eyes of the other two men on his back, watching silently as he leapt down off the stage and headed to the door.

"If you get mauled, you better hope they kill you, because otherwise I'm going to come out there and finish the job myself!" Emma called at his back.

* * *

** Grumpy Rockstar!Gold is so much fun to write. **

**Please let me know what you think! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

elle couldn't comprehend why they needed to arrive _six hours_ early just to stand in line until they rounded a corner down the street from Irving Plaza and nearly ran directly into a crowd of people gathered there, and the collective groan that went up from the other three girls immediately answered her unspoken question.

"Shit," Moaned Ruby, tugging at her hair. "We got here so early! We aren't even gonna be able to see them if we're this far back in line! We'll end up on the sides of the stage, or worse! This is totally _not_ what my good money went towards!"

"This is the _line?"_ Belle asked, craning around Ruby to see. Sure enough, the crowd extended all the way along the brick wall of the building. It appeared that every single one of the concert's patrons had gotten there ahead of them. "How long have these people been waiting?"

The person they'd almost run into, a college-aged guy with an amused look and an eyebrow ring, turned and quirked it at them. "The people at the front have been waiting since this morning," He crowed, as if this knowledge made him superior to them in more ways than a single place in line.

They'd been listening to Fable the entire four hour drive from Boston to New York, making it all the way from the jangly, awkward sounds of their first album to the pulsing, self-assured latest one, and Belle had really, _truly _tried to listen. She _wanted_ to like the band, for Ruby and Aurora and Mary Margaret's sake, but by the time they'd pulled into the parking lot of their hotel, she still couldn't tell the difference between one song and the next.

"Are these guys really worth standing around for over twelve hours over?" She asked, and immediately regretted it when she was rewarded with icy, disbelieving looks from every face within earshot. Apparently, according to these people, they were.

"She's new," Ruby explained to the people around them, wrapping an arm around Belle's shoulder. "Don't worry, she'll learn!"

It took hours, but Belle eventually regained the favor of her line mates for her silly question, and had also learned _entirely _too much information about the band they were all waiting to see. Ignorance seemed to be frowned upon, she learned, but it was also an excuse for every person with a tattoo or ring in an unexpected place to take her under their wing and teach her Fable's long and tangled history. Most of it, like the band's music, went in one ear and out the other despite her best attempts to remember. She considered herself intelligent and a quick learner, but there was something about the band that just had her mind shutting off.

"Name the band," Coaxed Mary Margaret as the sun descended over the enormous buildings that surrounded them, and the small group of new friends they'd gained made Belle self-conscious with their stares as counted them off.

"Uhm. Swan, the singer." Belle ticked the band members off with her fingers, and was glad to see that Ruby was mouthing their names in her eagerness to hear Belle speak them. "Rumplestiltskin, the other singer, who also plays guitar. Captian Hook—"

"Also known as Cap'n!" Eagerly shouted the young man they'd first met, who she'd learned was named Tracy. She seemed to now be in his good graces thanks to Ruby's overbearing flirting with him, and the taller woman elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shh! Let her finish!"

"Cap'n," Belle corrected. "Also on the guitar, and Mad Hatter, on the drums. Did I miss anything?"

"Swan also plays the bass." Aurora said quietly at her shoulder, but her smile was genuine as she watched Belle, and a cheer went up around them.

"She can be taught!" Cried Ruby proudly, wrapping her arm around Belle's shoulders and squeezing. "_Now_ your ears are ready to receive the music of Fable!"

"If you say so," Laughed Belle, embarrassed over the pride that swelled in her at the cheers. If all it took to gain this kind of ridiculous popularity was memorizing band member names in line, she'd have to try to actually try to remember them instead of reading them off her friend's lips.

She may not have cared for their style of music, but they _did_ seem to have talent, and with the loving, devotional way people spoke about the band, she had to concede that learning more about them, if only to be able to speak to that knowledge in a conversation, would be a useful thing.

She tugged the hem of her tank top down for the hundredth time that day, glad that Ruby had convinced her at the last moment to change from jeans and a blouse into a tan tank top and shorts, layering over it with a thin plaid button-up shirt that she left open to serve as a light jacket, if only for sun cover. New York was nowhere near as sweltering as Australia could be, but seven hours spent under the hot sun had left her feeling more than a little grungy, and she was looking forward to getting out of the heat and into an air-conditioned space.

"Do you think we'll get a decent spot?" Belle asked, glancing at all the people standing behind them. It hadn't been as bad as they'd all imagined at first glance; there had been numerous people who had showed up after them, and it looked like they were somewhere in the middle of the extensive line.

They'd also had more than one person walk along the line, begging to trade ridiculous amounts of cash for tickets. It was a testament to her friendship with the others that they didn't immediately cast her out for the money when she politely suggested it—they'd have been able to go up several points in living accommodations for the remainder of the trip if they'd sold her ticket to someone who _actually_ wanted to be there, but her friends wouldn't hear of it.

"Hopefully." Came Mary Margaret's grumbling reply, her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans. Fashion, apparently, was more important to her than comfort, but she looked to be suffering for it nontheless. She swiped the back of her arm across her forehead. "At this point, I'm just ready to get out of this freaking line, no matter where we end up."

Aurora echoed the sentiment muzzily, having gone silent a long time before, and even with all of her excitement, she looked like she was dozing against the side of the building in a heat induced coma.

"Oh. My. God. Guys. _Guys._"

Ruby's awestruck tone cut through all of their own distractions, and when Belle looked at the taller woman she was shifting from foot to foot, looking very much like a wolf who had just caught the scent of prey. Every muscle in her body was tensed.

Belle raised her chin to see what the taller girl was ogling at, and she felt Mary and Aurora do the same on her other side.

"What?"

"Him. That guy walking down the line. In the jeans and the hat. Who does he look like to you?"

Belle had to stand on tiptoe to get a good look at the man, immediately stumped. He looked like an ordinary guy, giving the building a passing glance as he stalked down the street towards them, shoulders hunched with his hands shoved in the pockets of his worn and baggy blue jeans. His brown hair, mostly hidden beneath a black, square military cap, was long in the back and touched the collar of the dark grey t-shirt that hung around his lanky frame with measured carelessness, and dark shades obscured what Belle could tell was a look of practiced indifference as he glanced at the gathered crowd, the barest hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. He was attractive; in a languid, lanky way, all lean muscles and tanned skin, but Belle had no clue how to answer Ruby's question.

"I don't know," Belle whispered back, feeling the conspiratorial tang in the air. "Do we know him?"

"That looks like Rumplestiltskin, doesn't it?" Ruby hissed. "Look at the hair! Look at that _strut!_"

"Oh my god, it kinda does." Whispered Mary Margaret, tensing at Belle's left shoulder. "Can you imagine?"

"Why would he be out here right before the show?" Belle asked in quiet disbelief. "Seems like a stupid idea to me, with all these people around. Shouldn't he have security or something?" A quick glance behind the guy revealed no such thing. "Besides, how would we even know if it was him?"

"He's prematurely gray right above his ears," Gushed Ruby, gesturing to her own hair. "And his eyes are pretty telltale, not to mention that _gorgeous_ accent…"

"Okay, so obviously we need to get him to take the hat off." Whispered Aurora, and Belle took in the hungry look in her quiet friends eyes with shock. Aurora was the _last_ person she'd had guessed to suggest such an idea. "But how?"

"Oh god, oh god." Ruby whimpered, shifting from one foot to the other anxiously. "Here he comes, what are we going to do? We can't just let this pass us by, we _have _to know. Quick!"

"I'll push you." Mary Margaret suggested. "You pull them off as you run into him! It'll be foolproof!"

"_What?" _Asked Belle, looking at each of the three of them in turn, but even Aurora was nodding in agreement. They were all _lunatics. _"You can't be serious—what if it isn't him? He probably doesn't want attention brought to himself if he's out here!"

"Shit, here he comes." Hissed Ruby, quivering as she moved to the edge of the line to get a better angle. "I'm in. Let's do it."

"Ruby!" Belle hissed anxiously, watching her friend squirm with anticipation, hands clenching and unclenching as she watched the man amble over, hands in his pockets, completely carefree and unsuspecting. "Don't! You're gonna get us thrown out before we even get in!"

It was with abject horror that Belle watched the older male coming closer, mentally willing him to stop and turn around to keep her friends from embarrassing themselves and causing a scene. Even if he _wasn't_ Rumpled-whatshisname, being surprised by having tall, lanky Ruby thrown at him wouldn't be pleasant to anyone. Belle had no more time to argue her case, though, because a second later Ruby glanced at Mary Margaret and nodded.

"Do it." She hissed, a gleeful little smile on her lips, and Mary stuck her foot out and shoved Ruby with her shoulder, and she went flailing out of line with overdone drama and directly into the man's path.

It was like a train wreck, watching Ruby's hand fly up in a beeline to the man's hat, pulling it from his hair and into his face, dragging his sunglasses down his nose in what couldn't possibly be seen as anything but a completely intentional and, from the looks of it, painful act.

A mane of shoulder-length brown hair fell about the man's shoulders as he stumbled back from the force of Ruby colliding with him, and the triumph in the collective intake of breath at the sight of the telltale grey at the man's temples from the two girls at her side was _palpable. _

"Sorry!" Ruby cried breathlessly, a poorly stifled giggle escaping her as her head snapped up to examine her handiwork, glee growing on her face as she took him in.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, dearie!" He snarled, gold eyes flashing in rage as he sidestepped Ruby's reaching hands, making her friend stumble off-balance. The thick Scottish brogue was almost impossible to understand as it rolled off his tongue, but almost every head in line turned in recognition at the sound of it. Belle felt her stomach turn. In their spur of the moment plan, they hadn't thought to include what would happen if it had _actually _turned out to be him.

"Oh my god!" Ruby cried in mock-surprise. "Like, you're Rumplestiltskin from Fable!"

He froze at her shouted admission, his expression going slack in disbelief a second before a girl in line in front of them screamed in excitement.

"Holy shit! _Rumplestiltskin!" _

The cry was like a catalyst, and Belle watched his face as he switched from disbelief to shock and then genuine _fear_ when more than one pair of hands grabbed at him, and in an instant he vanished from her vision beneath a swarm of bodies eager to get close.

"I fucking knew it!" Ruby screamed triumphantly among the din of chaos, and Belle could only fight to stand as every warm body around crowded closer to get a look at the action.

"Ruby? _Ruby!_" Belle shouted, shoving an arm into the mass of bodies in search of her friend, the need to protect her overriding the embarrassment and horror at Ruby putting herself in the situation in the first place, and she was relieved when long fingers with red-tinted fingernails wrapped around her wrist. She pulled hard, feeling Mary Margaret and Aurora join in, and a moment later Ruby emerged from the tangle of bodies, already in motion.

She shoved the three of them through and away from the crowd, Rumplestiltskin's black cap crumpled in her fist. Five huge, burly men in black shirts naming them SECURITY ran past them, barreling into the crowd among shouts and curses.

"Front of the line!" Ruby hissed, pushing at Belle's shoulder to stop her from craning over the crowd to see if the guitarist was okay. She caught a glimpse of him as he was hauled into sight between two of the security guards, looking furious and bloodied and more than a little dazed, piercing eyes roaming the crowd in search of her friend. "While everyone is distracted! Go!"

The front of the line was nearly deserted when they reached it, and Ruby shouted with joy at their luck. The security guards standing at the door were looking down the side of the building to where the scuffle was still taking place with fascination, shaking their heads and laughing, trading quips about Rumplestiltskin's foolishness. They'd just reached their place in line; not ten feet from the front door when a blonde woman came barreling outside, only making it a few feet from the entrance before being caught around the waist by the two men.

"Let me go! I'm going to fucking _murder him!" _She shrieked, making the four of them, the security guards, and the handful of people who hadn't abandoned the line jump. Judging by the look in the woman's eyes, Belle had never seen a more honest boast.

"Oh my_ God. _That was freaking _Swan_!" Mary Margaret gushed, watching in awe as the blonde was rushed back inside in front of a snarling, cursing Rumplestiltskin. Ruby poked her head out from around Belle's shoulder, where she'd ducked down to keep from being seen.

"Did he look hurt?" Ruby asked, looking contrite as she tucked Rumplestiltskin's black cap over her head. "I can't believe I just almost got him killed!"

"Not really," Aurora said. "His nose was bleeding, but other than that…"

"Tickets and ID's out," The security guard in front of the doors shouted, cutting any hopes of conversation.

Belle was enormously glad to be at the front of the line, because a chaotic wave of panic exploded behind them at the man's words, and her entire world was suddenly a mass of aggressive bodies and shouts as they were pushed through the doors in a frenzy. She'd gripped onto Ruby and Auroras arms when the pushing began, but they were almost immediately separated, and the sound of Mary Margaret shouting her name was the only indication that her friends were still somewhere nearby.

At some point, her ticket was ripped from her hands and a black stamp on the inside of her right wrist took its place, and after what felt like an eternity of being _far_ too close to _far_ too many people she found herself suddenly alone, abandoned in the center of the venue. There was no sight of her friends.

"Ruby?" She shouted. "Mary Margaret? Aurora?" The venue was quickly filling up, and that decided her. Her friends had gone through a lot to get here, and she'd bet anything they'd be at the front, near the stage. If she hurried, she could probably still make it there.

She shoved herself through the crowds until she finally met with a waist-high steel barrier at the very front, but there was still no sight of her friends. A glance at her watch showed it had taken her fifteen minutes to get this far, and she was running out of time. The college-aged youth they'd met in line, Tracy, was there with his friends, and he raised a beer to her in greeting.

"Hey!" She shouted, pushing her way over to him. "Have you seen my friends around anywhere? We got separated-"

The young man shook his head, shouting over the crowd that enveloped them. "No, but you're more than welcome to hang out with us!"

"I need to find my friends," She said, gesturing over her shoulder when the sounds around them swelled. "Maybe later."

She had barely made it ten feet before the discorded sounds of someone testing a guitar behind the curtain of the stage had the crowd crushing her against the steel barrier in excitement, stilling her efforts. Try as she might, she seemed to be struck where she was.

"Ruby!" She shouted, turning in the limited space and looking over the heads of the crowd as well as she could. "Mary Margaret! Aurora!" She managed to pry her phone from her back pocket with some effort, but there was no cell service. There was no sight of them, and she'd just walked away from the one person she even vaguely knew. She was all alone.

The warm-up band's appearance a while later had her fidgeting nervously against the warm press of bodies against her, but after a few twangy songs she found herself relaxing when they didn't press or prod her too badly. The music was loud and awkward, but by the time they pranced offstage to mild claps and the conversation swelled around her again, she was certain she'd be okay for the rest of the show. Her friends would be proud that she'd made it to the stage. She'd have a story to tell. She was feeling good about the show again, and found herself getting caught up in the excitement that flowed around her. It would be _fine_.

The instant the curtain started to rise and the screams started, she knew she'd never been more wrong about anything in her life.

The long, drawn out wail of a guitar was her only warning before she was crushed against the barrier by the weight of hundreds of people trying to get a better view, and no matter how she pushed and elbowed the people behind her, it was unrelenting. She was deaf and blind from the flash of the lights in the previously darkened room and the screams of the crowd around her, and things only got worse when she looked up to see Swan and Rumplestiltskin revealed by the opening curtain, standing at the forefront of the stage with their instruments, arms raised together in a salute.

"Good evening New York Fucking City!" The two of them howled, their words nearly drowned out by the screams of the crowd, pausing for only a second before diving directly into the loudest, most abrasive, grinding music Belle had ever heard.

She'd been concerned from the beginning, but after three songs she was certain. She was going to die in this shithole of a venue if she didn't do something.

She'd done everything in her power to fight the crowd; elbowing the people behind her, pushing away the sweaty limbs that jostled and prodded and knocked against her in time to the beat, but she could only take so much, and right now it was all entirely, completely too much.

The pulsing, snarling music, the too-hot bodies pressed up against her, crushing her against the barrier. She couldn't _breathe_, and panic swelled in her belly as she clawed at the waist-high steel partition separating her from safety. There were security personnel in that space. People had been led out of the crowd from that space; albeit from being carried over the crowd. If she could just get over the metal barrier, she would be safe.

She tried climbing over the thing, but the bodies crowded around her were pressing too hard against her legs, and she couldn't free herself enough to do it herself.

"Hey!" She shouted, waving her hand in the face of a bored looking bouncer when he passed by her. "Let me out!"

He stared right through her as if she weren't there, his eyes roving the crowd looking for people causing trouble rather than those _in _it, and she screamed in indignation as he studiously ignored the hand straining inches from his face.

"Help me, you asshole!" She cried, adrenaline making her tremble when the crowd behind her, crushing her ribs painfully against the barrier and knocking the wind out of her.

The music swelled in her ears, pounding with renewed vigor as the song reached its bridge, and she bent double over the partition, unable to draw breath with all the bodies crowded against her back. She fought against them, forcing herself to straighten up; to try and make the muscled idiot standing safely behind his metal barrier _see that she needed to get out and that he needed to help her._

She had his attention, Belle realized when she drew up, but it was because he'd been looking down her fucking shirt when she bent over, and she glared at him through the sweat stinging her eyes.

"Let me out!" She shouted at him, gesturing broadly for him to lift her over the partition. "I can't breathe!"

He shook his head, smirking lewdly at her as he leaned back against the stage. "Shouldn't be at the front if you can't hack it," He shouted back. "Settle in, girlie."

Another swell had her gasping for air against the partition, and she was ready to _plead _with the man when she managed to straighten back up, but instead she watched, stunned, as a black leather boot descended on the bulky shoulder of the security guard from the direction of the stage and pressed down hard enough to make the large man grunt.

Rumplestiltskin, the man Ruby had tried so hard to get killed while they were in line, was glaring icily down at the man from over his guitar, the instrument going silent as he knelt down to shout at the man, covering the little microphone stuck to the collar of his shirt while Swan wailed flawlessly across the stage.

"Let the fucking lass out if she wants out, I'm not going to watch her fucking die in the front row!"

The demand only took him away from the show for a few seconds, but his fingers resumed their place easily on the strings of his guitar as if he'd never missed a beat, and then he was back to playing, turning away from their little scene to throw his head back and wail along with Swan.

The security guard gawked at her for a moment before reaching over the barrier to grab her under her arms, hauling her unceremoniously over the solid steel and planting her on her feet beside him. She wasn't sure who the expletives she could hear being snarled under his breath were directed at, but she watched as he directed a dark glare over his shoulder at the band before returning to watch the crowd, his eyes going wide as they both caught sight of a male bobbing over the raised arms of the crowd towards them.

"Get out of here!" He shouted, shoving Belle out of the way as he readied himself to grab the flailing teen.

She stumbled back, catching herself when her shoulder blades struck the edge of the stage, and she watched, transfixed with horror as the security guard caught the young man before he was thrown over the partition and onto the concrete on his head.

She couldn't have been standing there for more than a second, frozen, when the overwhelming feeling of being watched had her turning her head and looking up. She met the eyes of her savior, standing not ten feet away up on the stage and watching her like a hawk. Their gazes held for a long moment before he looked away and back to the crowd, never detracting a single note from the show, but it was unnerving just the same.

Her stupor was interrupted by a rough hand grabbing her by the upper arm and pulling roughly.

"Are you fucking deaf?" The security guard roared, dragging her forcibly to the side of the safe zone and pushing her out and into the sparse crowd gathered there. "I told you to _move_, now get out of here before I throw you out of the building!"

She stumbled, crashing into a few people craning to get a better vantage before righting herself, and when she managed to draw a full breath for the first time since the concert started, someone grabbed her roughly from behind and knocked it from her lungs.

"Belle!" Ruby shouted in her ear, hugging her, and Belle's nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol on her friend's breath. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be her friend; sweetly inebriated and carefree. "We all saw from the back—how did you get up to the front? Rumplestiltskin looked like he was going to kick that guys _ass _for you! How badass was that?!"

"Kind of awful," Belle shouted back, laughing despite herself as she let Ruby lead her back to the bar in the back of the venue, where she could see Aurora and Mary Margaret jumping up and down. Ruby had Rumplestiltskin's black military cap on backwards, and she'd bet anything that the woman wouldn't take the thing off for a while. "But also kind of cool, I guess."

"Belle!" Mary Margaret shouted, leaping into her arms the second she got close. "Oh my God, how did you get up to the front!?"

"I thought you would all be there!" She shouted back, realizing her hands were trembling. "I was trying to find you!"

She watched as the three girls shook their heads. "_Never_ go up to the front, Belle! Not if you don't have a death wish! Not for a concert like this!" Ruby smacked her palm against her forehead. "I'm sorry, we should have told you!"

Aurora nudged Belle. "Rumplestiltskin-What did he say to you?!"

"Nothing," She replied loudly, her words drowned out among the cheers from the crowd as yet another song ended on stage. "The bouncer was being an ass, and he told the guy he didn't want to watch me die."

"He likes you!" Ruby teased, nudging Belle with her shoulder, and Belle rolled her eyes, accepting the shot of vodka Aurora tucked into her hand a moment later.

The rest of the concert was much less stressful after another shot, and Belle leaned against the bar and cheered along with the crowd at the end of each song, and after a while she waved off Mary Margaret, Aurora, and Ruby, shouting for them to have a good time and watching as they disappeared into the bobbing crowd.

They weren't half bad, she decided near the end; between Swan and Rumplestiltskin, their vocals varied between mournful cries to wailing rage, and she was fairly certain that she'd be able to tell the band members apart when they prowled back on stage for an encore. The drummer and other guitarist, Hatter and Hook, were fun in their own way; but Swan and Rumplestiltskin seemed to _own_ the stage.

They played off one another, the two of them; Swan had a smooth, lilting voice at odds with her aggressive, unladylike movements, while Rumplestiltskin was her polar opposite. He _growled_ when he sang, but moved with a predatory grace about the stage as his fingers easily strummed his instrument with measured ease, and she found herself cheering along with the crowd when the stage finally went dark, the last notes of the music quivering through the air amidst roars of approval. She still didn't know anything about them, or care for their brand of music, but she was willing to admit that they seemed to have an incredible amount of talent.

She wandered through the dispersing crowds, making it all the way back up to the dreadful steel barrier, but there was no sign of Ruby, Mary Margaret, or Aurora. She walked back to the bar, perching herself at the stool closest to the door and calling her friends. She hung up when Ruby's voicemail clicked on after several rings, unconcerned. They were still around, somewhere, and she was beginning to realize that they didn't need to be together to have a good time.

When fifteen minutes when by and she still hadn't glanced them in the crowd she debated, weighing her options. The place wasn't anywhere near empty, but it _was _beginning to quiet down. If she stayed and waited, she might find them, but if she left the place to go looking for them, she wouldn't be able to get back in, and then she'd be stuck huddling at the front door in a possibly dangerous neighborhood until they finally _did_ turn up.

Belle watched as the bartender wandered over. "What'll it be?"

She retrieved her phone from her pocket again and peeling back the lavender colored case to retrieve her ID and the twenty she'd hidden there. If she was going to wait, she might as well have a drink while she did so.

"Cosmopolitan."

"Don't have that." The bartender answered gruffly. "This isn't Sex and the City, girlie. What'll it be?"

Two more unanswered calls had her glaring down at her long island iced tea, which she suspected to be a mixture of random, undiluted shots and nothing else, but the sight of someone sliding onto the stool beside her broke her reverie. There were plenty of chairs; the tiny bar was nearly empty. She stiffened at the old leather boots she could see in her peripheral vision, readying herself for what would likely be a poor pick-up line. A smirk crossed her lips. On a normal day, she was able to typically cut off whatever attention that Ruby or Mary Margaret didn't attract with grace, but she was feeling feisty. She'd enjoy turning this one down.

"Not too hurt, lass?" A thick brogue purred at her and her head snapped up in surprise, completely sidetracked.

It was her savior, the guitarist who'd leaned down and saved her from being crushed not two hours before. She took in the grey at the young man's temples and the languid, careless way he rapped his knuckles on the counter, exuding authority despite his ease. She watched as a shot of whiskey appeared instantly before him before she shook herself.

"Oh. I—yes. I'm fine. Thanks to you."

He saluted her with the shot glass and a smirk before tipping it back, grimacing impressively at the taste.

"Ah," He said, carefully setting down the little glass and giving her a smile. "I'm going to guess you don't hail from New York."

She took a tiny sip from her drink to swallow the sigh that was threatening to come from her lips. Famous or not, it seemed no one was able to resist mentioning her accent.

"I'm going to guess you don't either." She answered curtly.

"Scotland." He answered easily, taking her by surprise.

"Australia." When he only nodded as if she'd confirmed his suspicions, she looked back over to him. "What, you don't want to hear me say something Australian?"

He rested his chin on his palm and regarded her curiously, a smile playing on his lips. "Should I?"

"Most people do."

He laughed. "I know that feeling, lass. Gotten too much attention with mine over the years. Bloody awful, isn't it?"

She couldn't help the feeling of camaraderie that bubbled up in her at his words. Other foreign students had been rare in Maine, and she'd been singled out for as long as she'd been in the States because of her accent. Here, though, was a man who understood.

She noticed a purpling bruise on his bicep and winced, remembering exactly the kind of attention he got when he opened his mouth, and she suddenly felt like an idiot. Of course he understood where she was coming from. "No kidding. Are _you_ okay? I saw you outside—you're lucky you didn't get killed."

He gave her a dark, amused look before rapping his knuckles on the counter again.

"So everyone tells me." His long fingers rubbed the tender spot as he chuckled, jerking his chin to direct her attention to the two large men standing unobtrusively several yards behind him. "Now I've got these monkeys shadowing my every step. Bloody obnoxious, yeah?"

She was only half-listening to his words, distracted as she glanced around, suddenly realizing she was sitting in the back of a venue talking with a man who should have been getting far more attention than he was. Aside from the attentive barkeep and a blonde woman sitting at the far stool looking away from them, they were completely alone. She had no idea how much time had gone by.

"Where is everyone?"

He was watching her with amusement when she looked back to him. "Venue doors closed half an hour ago, love. Everyone's gone."

She stared dumbly at him, and he smirked. "You were expecting me to saunter out around all those other people to say hello?"

"What?" She frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "We both know why you're still here. I don't normally come out and make special visits to fans, but so far, you've impressed me. Not often an intelligent young lass-"

She suddenly realized exactly what he thought she was doing; realized what _he_ was doing, and she held up her hands.

"Oh! No, no. I'm sorry. You're misunderstanding me. I was waiting for my friends."

Surprise flashed behind the confident expression, but he quickly covered it with a halfhearted laugh, frowning at her even as a smile played on his lips. "You don't need to be coy-"

She couldn't help but laugh. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one preparing herself for a pick-up line. "No, really. I got separated from my friends during the show until—well, you saw. But they got lost in the crowd again after you saved me." She gave him a smile. "You're nice—way nicer than I thought you would be, to be honest—but I don't even know your name."

She'd meant it kindly; from one person who got too much attention for something about them to another. She wasn't stalking him, wasn't going to ask him to sing something Fable, or say something Scottish. She was just waiting for her friends.

He looked like she'd slapped him.

"Excuse me?"

She gave him an apologetic look. "I didn't even know about your band until this morning."

"So you aren't—" He blinked, his surprised expression slowly giving way to bewildered confusion and then embarrassment. "Oh. _Oh." _

She hadn't realized how close he'd gotten to her until he slowly but very deliberately began to shift away and back to a more normal conversational distance, looking uncomfortable. "You didn't even…Then what are you doing here?"

"My friends brought me." She explained, putting humor into her words n an attempt to lighten the awkward situation. "Guilt tripped me. Dragged me along, more like it." She realized how rude she was coming off and quickly amended. "Not that it wasn't enjoyable."

"Tickets for our shows are usually…a little out of the price range for that kind of interest, yeah?" He said, frowning at her like she'd just casually told him she'd picnicked on the moon for lunch.

"I told them to sell the ticket," She fiddled with the rim of her drink. "But they told me I had to come."

"Was it worth it?" He asked, and she glanced over to see him staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. "Did you like the show, I mean."

She opened her mouth, but the look in his eyes had her telling the truth. "You have a _lot_ of talent," She told him, smiling apologetically at him. "But to be honest, I'm not much of a rock girl."

He made a noise in his throat that she wasn't sure what to make of. "I see."

She leaned back and watched him, realizing that all the charm and warmth he'd put into their conversation moments before was gone; replaced by sideways looks and uncomfortable silence.

"So," She hedged, wondering why she was trying so hard to keep a conversation with a man who clearly was at a loss for what to say to her. "What _is_ your name?"

He stared at her like she'd grown another head, hesitating for a long moment. "Rumplestiltskin." He cleared his throat, glancing at something over her shoulder before standing. "I'm sorry. I need to—will you excuse me?"

He'd darted out of the room before she could answer him, and after a few seconds she caught the faint sounds of him shouting at someone on the other side of the stage. Whatever bewildered creature she'd been speaking to sounded nothing like the rough, explicit animal that was shouting with his accent backstage. She glanced over her shoulder to see the blonde woman from before still sitting at the end of the bar in a fit of silent laughter.

She felt her stomach do a strange little flip as she put two and two together, deducing exactly who she'd been sitting ten feet from for the last hour. "Swan?"

Swan smiled at her, raising her beer to Belle in salute. "You really got under his skin. Been a while since I saw N—Rumplestiltskin that unnerved." She laughed; a full bodied, honest sound, and the candid way the woman spoke had Belle immediately warming to her. "I guess that's what happens after you make the mistake of assuming…Well." She quirked an eyebrow at Belle. "I guess we owe you an apology. We saw you waiting and just assumed…"

There were entirely too many 'we's' being thrown around. Belle stared at the other woman in confusion, wondering if Swan meant she and Rumplestiltskin or Fable as a whole, and if the two of them were lovers with some sort of weird, accepting relationship or…All the wondering was giving her a headache.

"We?" She asked meekly.

"I'm sorry. He. Me. Us. Fable." She waved a hand between herself and the stage. "He wanted to come out here alone, but after that crap he pulled before the show, Regina wasn't willing to take the chance. He can be a real idiot."

Her answer only gave Belle more questions, like who Regina was and exactly why someone would put themselves in danger just to be incognito before a show, but instead she just nodded and hoped it seemed as if the other woman had answered her question.

She'd just taken a sip from her drink, anxious to be done with it and out of the venue when the door beside the stage crashed open again and two men came out, laughing boisterously and glancing over their shoulders at something behind the door, and she took another hurried sip from her drink and turned away. She'd been comfortable sitting with Rumplestiltskin and Swan, but she got the feeling from these two that she probably shouldn't attract attention to herself.

"Two beers," Came the accented drawl of the taller, well-kept man as he approached, and it wasn't until his fingers snapped inches from her ear that she turned to him in annoyance.

"Excuse me?"

He stared at her like she was an idiot. "I said, two beers."

"She's not a waitress, Hook." Swan called from the other end of the bar, where Belle could see the other man, the only one of the four of them that looked younger than her seating himself. Hook's eyes swiveled back down to hers, and after a moment of incomprehension a smirk grew on his face.

"Ah. So you're what all the fuss is about, then?" He asked, sliding himself into Rumplestiltskin's vacant seat beside her. She tensed when his eyes did a sweep of her, head to toe, and she found herself crossing her legs self-consciously. "The little girl who has never heard of us. Tell me, lass, do you live under a rock?"

"_Hook." _Swan's tone was hard, but the eyelined guitarist waved her off.

Belle stiffened but turned away, taking another sip from her drink. It was still a quarter full, but the exorbitant price she'd paid for it was beginning to seem less important than her desire to leave. A quick glance at her phone sitting on the bar showed that wherever her friends had gone they weren't missing her yet, but if she was really the last one in the venue it meant there was nothing to lose by leaving.

"How did you even get in?" Hook persisted. "Rich daddy? Connections?" He nudged her with his shoulder to get her attention and she caught the whiff of alcohol on his breath. She wrinkled her nose.

"I'm on a road trip with my friends," She muttered, doing her best to ignore him. "I don't want any trouble."

"Of course you don't. Too good for all that. I know your type. All brains and no fun-"

"That's bloody enough, Killian."

The growling brogue had all three of them looking up, and she was shocked at the feral look in Rumplestiltskin's eyes, his fists clenched at his sides. He was glowering at the man beside her. "Leave the lass alone."

She flinched and tried to move away when Hook wrapped a warm, surprisingly strong arm around her to keep her at his side.

"Or what, old man? You'll jump in and save her? Or will you have one of the security goons do it for you again?"

The slow, predatory way Rumplestiltskin approached them had Hook faltering, and by the time the older man put his face uncomfortably close to Hook's, he was positively squirming.

The slow, languid smile on Rumplestiltskin's face was unnerving. "I think we both know what will happen, Killian."

Belle watched as the younger man's arm dropped from her shoulders, and Rumplestiltskin continued his quiet invasion of the other man's personal space until Hook slid off the chair and away from Belle.

"Just having a bit of fun, that's all." He murmured, and Rumplestiltskin leaned in to hiss something under his breath him. Sensing an opportunity to make her escape, Belle took advantage of the two men's distraction slide from her stool and towards the door.

She'd barely made it three steps before the warm voice of her savior stopped her.

"Where are you going, lass?"

She turned back to see him watching her in confusion, and she gestured over her shoulder towards the door. "It's late. I need to go find my friends."

He took a step towards her, his hand outstretched as if reaching for her. "No need to hurry, yeah? Stay and have a drink with us. We didn't mean any offense, yeah?"

She just shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I really should be going."

"You don't want an autograph, or a-a memento of some sort before you go?" He patted the hips of his trousers, as if trying to find something to give her.

"Take a hint, Rumplestiltskin!" Hook shouted at the two of them from his place near Swan's shoulder. "The lass doesn't want you!"

Belle flushed, and Rumplestiltskin slowly closed his eyes, seeming to gather his patience before he spoke to her again.

"That's not what I meant. You're-" He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, and Belle shook her head.

"No. Thank you, but I don't need anything."

He followed her to the door anyway, and he seemed more like a puzzled youth than the angry, abrasive rockstar he'd been moments before with Hook. She wasn't sure what to say to him when he paused at the doorway with her-goodbye? Thanks? She flushed at the wrong impression he'd gotten from her at first. He wasn't expecting something from her, was he?

"I can have security walk you to your car," He glanced outside at the darkness. "If you'd like."

She shook her head again, feeling guilty about the presumptions she kept drawing about him. Whatever he'd been expecting when they first met, he'd been nothing but cordial to her since he'd first sat down. "No thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine."

He fished in the pocket of his jeans for a moment before retrieving something small and offering it to her between two fingers. It was a little plastic guitar pick, solid black with a gold border and a tribal R glimmering in the center of it.

"Here. For when you decide to tell your friends about your evening and they don't believe you."

What was she supposed to tell them? That she'd spaced out and gotten saved for the second time by the lead singer of Fable, who had been kind to her but had threatened more people in the evening she'd known him than she wanted to recall?

She held out her hand and he dropped the pick in her palm, laughing. "Trust me, they wouldn't believe me even with this."

That earned her a smile from him, and he moved away from the doorway to let her pass. "It's been an off night for all of us, yeah? Hope yours picks up, miss..." He trailed off, stopping his departure to look back at her.

"Belle." She told him. "Belle French."

The corner of his lip curved up, and that bewildered expression was back on his face. "Have a good evening, Belle."

* * *

"_Belle!" _Ruby shouted when Belle appeared from the darkness that surrounded the old Land Cruiser twenty minutes later, and Belle ran the last few steps to embrace the taller brunette. She'd spent every step of the walk regretting not taking Rumplestiltskin up on his offer for security, and she buried her face in the other woman's shoulder in relief. "Sweetheart, where in the world have you _been? _We've been looking everywhere!"

"I got...lost after the show."

She wasn't sure what made her lie, but it was out before she could think better of it. Her friends would have been beside themselves to hear where she'd spent her evening, but she was exhausted and befuddled and it would have taken entirely too long to explain and, like she'd told Rumplestiltskin, they probably wouldn't have believed her anyway.

Mary Margaret's warmth was against her back. "Lost in New York? You're lucky you didn't get hurt, Belle! We've been calling you like crazy for the last half hour, why didn't you pick up? We were ready to call the cops!"

"What?" She leaned back, staring at the other woman in confusion, and her hands fluttered to the pockets of her thin overshirt. "I would have answered if you called. The walk was a _nightmare_ all alone at night-" Oh, no. She touched the back pockets of her shorts, and then the front, and her hands were digging in the pockets of her jacket again futilely when Aurora spoke.

"Belle? What's wrong?"

"My _phone!_" She cried, panicked. "And my ID! _Fuck_!"

* * *

**Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would love to hear what you thought of it! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

He was in a world-famous band. He put on shows that most people and their bloody mother would kill to see. He was famous. He was _successful, _god damnit.

He was so far beyond the point of caring what other people thought of him and Fable that any negativity was immediately drowned out by the screaming adoration of a million people willing to argue on his behalf. He'd heard his fair share of negativity; it wasn't as if he was deaf to it, but nothing anyone had ever said had ever bothered him. He was Fable's _lead fucking singer._

So then why, _why_ was he waking up for the third _bloody_ time, haunted by dreams of a young, brown-haired little goddess who looked at him and saw straight through the shield of fame that he wore; who spoke to him like he was a normal person rather than some pompous old fool?

The dreams had run together and he couldn't keep them straight; he'd chased her and chased her all night, but she remained just out of reach; always beautiful and smiling and kind, with a sharp-edged tongue that set him on fire and flayed flesh from bone the moment she spoke. And she _always_ spoke.

He'd never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted the blue-eyed wonder in that dream.

"_Gold!"_

Emma's shout had him jerking awake, evaporating his latest dream with his fingers a millimeter away from his target.

He knew he'd never have actually caught her. He knew it was just a dream, and a stupid one at that. It didn't stop him from being _furious._

"What!?" He snarled, sitting up in a tangle of bedsheets that nearly had him collapsing onto the floor. It took him a moment to realize Emma wasn't actually _in _the room. Of course she wasn't. He kicked the suffocating fabric from his legs and stalked over, throwing the door to his suite open and regarding the blonde with a wild-eyed glare.

Emma took a step back, smirking at him with a cup of coffee in her hand. "Woah. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"You have no idea." He growled, scrubbing at his face as reality slowly seeped into his consciousness.

The goddess. The girl. From the night before. Oh, lord. He'd been dreaming about some young little thing just because she'd surprised him with her honest words and kind, unexpecting demeanor.

He was going crazy, to let some pretty blue eyes get under his skin like that.

He reached to take the cup of coffee from Emma's hand, but she pulled it away at the last second, smiling at him.

"My coffee. I came to talk. That girl, from last night?"

He groaned. Emma had torn him apart for interrupting the show for the few seconds it took to put the security guard in his place, and he was _not_ in the mood for a fucking rehashing. "Drop it, Emma. I'm not in the bloody mood to talk about this again. She was getting crushed. I'm not going to say sorry."

The blonde brushed past him into the room, her tone suspiciously bright. "Wasn't going to ask you to. Of all the things we could find to talk about in relation to that girl, I think it's funny that _thats_ where your mind went. I was going to ask what happened after you walked her to the door. You disappeared for the rest of the night."

"I took a cab back to here-" He turned, eyeing his surrogate sister with distaste as he realized where the topic was leading to. "_Emma_. Don't start."

She widened her eyes innocently. "Start what? Just making conversation. So, did you send her home in a cab, or is she hiding in the bathroom?"

He made a grumbling noise in his throat. "Neither. Walking her to the door is _all _I did."

Emma sounded truly surprised. "Wait, what? With the way you threatened Killian, I thought maybe-"

"You saw her. She wasn't interested. Besides, what do I care? She was just some bloody girl." He grumbled, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. "Some bloody girl who didn't even want to _be _there last night." He put his face in his hands.

"Some girl that got under your skin, you mean." Emma teased. "Don't think I didn't see your face. You didn't know what to do with yourself with the girl turned you down."

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He'd been turned down before. That wasn't new. But after spending half the concert unable to stop _staring_ at the poor lass back by the bar, he couldn't help but admit he'd been interested when Regina told him she was waiting for him. What a bloody mess.

"Yeah well, nothing happened, and I won't ever even see her again, so don't fucking start with me, yeah?"

"Would you_ like_ to see her again?" Emma responded, and when his head snapped up she was holding a black phone with a lilac colored plastic case in her hand, a grin on her face. "She left her phone at the venue. I just confiscated it off of Killian and Jefferson. They were sending some...unseemly texts and phone calls with it. Want it?"

He was on his feet and reaching to take it from her hands before he realized what he was doing, and he drew back and curled his hands into fists to stop himself. She was just some _woman_, god damnit. Just because he'd had a bloody dream about her didn't make her anything special. It wasn't often someone impressed him, and she'd managed to.

It took all of his pride to hide behind the mask of Rumplestiltskin. "Why would I want to return it to her? She didn't even know who I was. Who _you_ were. Besides, she's probably long gone by now. I'm not a goddamn courier service."

Emma grabbed his wrist, and he was already opening his fist to take the phone from her when she pressed it into his palm. She smirked at him. "Don't try to pull that with me. You're an awful liar, Gold."

His fingers hadn't even closed around the thing before the little phone was vibrating in his hand, and he did a double take on the picture flashing across the screen, the name Ruby flashing across the top.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," He growled.

"What is it?" Emma asked, leaning over him to look at the picture. A tall, over-skinny brunette was making a face at the camera, her arm wrapped around the blue-eyed young woman, Belle, both clad in graduation gowns. He jabbed at the skinny woman in the little image with a finger.

"Her. That's the girl that nearly got me killed before the show yesterday. The one that stole my hat."

"Oh my God." Emma snickered. "Are you sure?"

He gave her a bland look. "It's not something I'd forget."

"Well, answer it." Emma gestured towards the phone. "If she's calling, that must mean they're looking for it. Lucky you."

He stiffened, looking nervously at the little device in his hand. "She knew who I was by my bloody_ hair _yesterday, Em. If I answer it, she'll know it's me. They'll have half of New York after me by the time I get the bloody phone back to Belle."

"So you know the girl's name then," Emma teased. "That's a first."

The phone was out of his hand and up to Emma's ear before he could protest, and she jabbed him hard in the ribs when he tried to take it back from her. "Hello?" He could hear someone speaking on the other end of the line, and he kicked himself for the hope that overwhelmed him when Emma smiled and turned away from him. "Oh! Hi, Belle. This is-well. You don't know me, but I think we have your phone."

Emma turned away and strode across the room, and he watched as she paced beside the window, speaking to Belle quietly for several minutes before finally hanging up. She turned to Gold with a smirk.

"Well?" He demanded.

"Thought you didn't care." She watched him struggle for an argument for a moment before laughing. "Do you want the good news or bad news first?"

He debated for a second, finally giving up on any pretenses. "Good."

"Good news is your girl is overjoyed that you're going to return her phone." He snatched the device out of the air when Emma tossed it to him. "And she also has no idea who it is returning it, so as long as her friend can keep quiet the whole 'half of New York' angle is covered."

"And the bad?"

"The bad is that you've only got two hours to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face and get cleaned up before you meet her at the Empire State Building."

He quickly swallowed the expression he hadn't been aware of.

"Why there?"

Emma sniggered. "It was the only thing the girl could see from her hotel room that she could recognize. I'm going to guess she's not from around here."

Of course she wasn't. She was from Australia, no that he'd have ever admitted that to Emma. It was one thing to know the girls name. It was another entirely to know anything else about her. He couldn't keep the warmth from his tone. "Thanks, Em."

She patted his shoulder roughly on the on her way to the door, but her smile was genuine. "You're just lucky I know you better than you do."

* * *

He could see Emma lounging in the one of the expensive armchairs the lobby offered when he stepped out of the elevator an hour and a half later, and he was unsurprised when she stood at his approach.

He'd showered and, after weighing the practicalities of remaining incognito with clothing that would hide his identity versus not dying of heat stroke while wearing them, given up the ghost and changed into a pair of snug black jeans and old converse and a loose black t-shirt, and he could see her weighing his clothing choice when she strode over, ever the practical, self-appointed guardian of his safety.

"Wearing that?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips and quirking an eyebrow at him. "Not even going to _try_ to be inconspicuous?"

He pulled a pair of dark aviators from his pocket and showed them to her before pulling them over his eyes. He smirked. "Didn't work for me last night, yeah? These'll just have to do." He didn't even bother to ask about her clothing; even in her typical attire of skinny jeans and a tank top, Emma was very rarely recognized. One of the joys of being an all-American girl, he supposed.

He only rolled his eyes when she matched his step as he strode out of the extravagant marble lobby. "Shoulda bloody guessed you'd tag along."

They walked out into the blistering heat together, and Emma waved off the valet as he hurried over, hailing a cab instead.

"It's me or security, and I _know_ how much youlove being followed around by them." When his lip curled in distaste, she laughed. "You've already got two strikes against you in this town. Unless you want me to make good on my promise to finish the job if you get recognized and give you another one of these," She poked him in the purpling bruise on his arm, making him wince. "You'll let me tag along. It's me or them, and I guarantee you they won't just let you hang out with this girl."

He snorted, piling into the cab beside her. "You make a convincing argument, you know that?"

"I know." She put on a pair of fancy sunglasses, giving him a smirk before glancing at their cabby in the rearview. "Empire State Building, please."

* * *

He was surprised when Emma nudged him with her shoulder as the cab pulled away, nodding towards the Starbucks sign hanging in the window of the staggeringly large pointed building.

"I'm going to go get a coffee. Try not to get mauled again, alright?"

He quirked an eyebrow, unable to tear his gaze away from the swarming crowds of people that surrounded them. He couldn't _see_ Belle, but it was a big place, and he didn't want to be surprised again when her overeager brunette friend noticed him. "Not going to babysit me, Em?"

There was no response. "Em?" When he glanced over to where she'd been only moments before, Emma was gone. He smiled. For all of her ridiculous insistence on being inconspicuous and requiring the goddamn buddy system everywhere they went, she knew when to draw the line between being an overbearingly cautious little sister and being a friend. As always.

When a cursory patrol of the area revealed no sight of brunette hair and blue eyes, he swiped an arm over his forehead and pulled the girl's phone out of his back pocket, debating on calling the Ruby phone to alert them of his arrival, but then rejected the idea. Other than answering the single call from her friend, he hadn't touched the thing, and somehow even with all the bastard things he'd ever done, it still felt wrong to use the young woman's phone without her permission.

He touched the screen, smirking at the sight of her wallpaper, an image of her and her friends in graduation caps and gowns. It looked recent. A college graduate, then? It would make sense, the girl had simply _oozed_ intellect.

Other than Belle and the tall brunette who he suspected was this Ruby girl, he didn't recognize the others. Did they live here? Was it just the two of them visiting New York, or did she have a boyfriend? She'd turned him down _flat_ the night before, the second she'd realized what he was doing. There had been no interest—_none_—in her eyes. Did she have a fiancé? He hadn't seen a ring on her finger, but he also hadn't looked.

It suddenly took all of his willpower to not check her texts for some gushing, telltale sign of a significant other, and he was mortified at his own train of thought. He shoved the electronic deep into his pant pocket. What did he care if she had a boyfriend? What did he care about _anything_ relating to this woman—this _young _woman? She had no interest in him and he had no interest in her, and even if he _did _he was half-certain she was out of his age-range. At thirty one, he was still in his prime, but that didn't make it okay to go chasing after some twenty year old little—

He shook himself roughly, forcing himself out of that train of thought. Here he was, daydreaming about her again. He was just returning her phone. _He was just returning her bloody phone_.

The phone vibrated against his thigh, and he nearly tore the denim in his haste to rip it from his pocket.

He had the thing halfway up to his ear before the sight of a head of gentle brunette curls climbing from a cab across the sidewalk had him hesitating, and he was shocked at the way his stomach clenched in response to a pair of blue eyes scanning the crowd. It wasn't until they passed right over him without a single sign of recognition that he remembered she was looking for a woman, and he greedily drank in the sight of all the pale skin she displayed in her tank top and shorts before looking for a companion.

She had a friend with her, who was leaning down to pay their cab driver. He couldn't see her face, but the height was all wrong, and a glance around them revealed no others. Whoever this other girl she'd brought was, it wasn't the one who had his hat.

It also wasn't a boyfriend.

Just to confirm, he rejected the call and watched as Belle pulled the phone away from her ear, making a face at it before turning to speak to the girl beside her. After a few exchanged words, she tried dialing again.

Triumphant, he leaned against the glass building casually, making sure he was within eyesight.. She didn't care about who he was, but she had a friend with her, and he was nothing if not a bloody arrogant bastard. If there was even a _chance_ that this was one of her friends from the concert, he had a duty to himself to restore his broken pride by being recognized at least once.

He brought the phone up to his ear, watching the two of them in amusement. "Yah?"

Belle stiffened, looking confused by his very male voice, and she looked around the crowd that passed between them. Again, her eyes swept over him without a single sign of recognition. "Hi, we're here. Are you?"

"Mhmm. By the front doors. West 34th street."

He watched a smile bloom on her face. "So are we! What do you look like?" Her eyes scanned the crowd around her, drawing closer to him with every step she took towards the front doors of the staggeringly large building. She was making it all entirely too easy.

"Black shirt." She was suddenly eyeing an older, salt-and-pepper bearded man as he walked by her in a black suit, and he rolled his eyes. She was twenty feet away now, and it was with perverse pleasure that he recognized the design on her friends t-shirt, a stylized, tribal Fable logo. Oh, this would be _fun._

"Could you be more specific?" She asked, glancing at a youth much _younger_ than him in a black tank top, who rolled between them on a skateboard. "As it turns out, there are a lot of black shirts here."

"Black jeans." He let the distance between them shrink, and she passed by not ten feet from him, looking in the wrong direction. He straightened up and sauntered over, stopping an arm's length behind them.

"I'm sorry," Belle said into the phone at her ear, at the same time her friend nudged her.

"Ask him what color his hair is."

He disconnected the call, crossing his arms and smirking as he leaned between the two of them to whisper. "It's brown, love."

They both turned, and her friend didn't disappoint. After a second of incomprehension, her hand flew up to her mouth in total shock, and she stumbled back a step.

"_Oh my fucking God."_

He couldn't help the grin that crossed his face or the preening way he straightened up at her friends exclamation, and Belle was staring at him in complete surprise when he looked over to her.

"You." She said quietly, and a puzzled little expression crossed her face. "You're that guy from the show last night. Rumplestiltskin."

He honestly couldn't recall the last time he'd been referred to as 'that guy', and he couldn't help but tease her for it. "And you're the girl. Belle."

"What are you doing here?" Belle asked, and he found himself filled with dismay at her words. Was she not pleased to see him? He quickly offered the phone to her.

"You left it at the venue," He explained, and then remembering Emma's comment at the hotel added nervously, "Wasn't the one who found it, though. You should…probably check your phone records, yeah?"

"Oh," Belle exclaimed, and he watched as she peeled the case back to reveal her ID. What a clever little thing. "Thank you. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done…"

He suddenly regretted giving her the phone back, now that she was standing in front of him without a single reason to stay. He didn't want her to go.

Her friend provided a temporary solution. She was looking between them like they'd suddenly used magic, and he realized that for all of his arrogant desire to be recognized he hadn't paid the girl a single ounce of attention since Belle had spoken his name.

"B-Belle? How do you…?"

Belle's cheeks turned the most charming shade of pink he'd ever seen, and he realized that, for whatever reason, she hadn't told her friends where she'd been the night before. He wondered why that bothered him. "Oh. Sorry. Uh, Aurora, this is Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin, Aurora. We met after the show yesterday evening." She flapped a hand between the two of them helplessly, looking embarrassed. "Aurora and I went to school together."

He quirked an eyebrow at Belle but turned to Aurora, grateful to be back in his element. He didn't know how to act around Belle; she was a mystery and it had been far too long since he'd been around anyone who thought it necessary to introduce _him_, but he rocked back on his heels and inclined his head at her friend.

"I like your shirt."

Aurora immediately turned red, and he had to swallow a laugh.

"Thank you." The quiet brunette gushed. "Your show was _so _good last night."

He snorted in amusement. He probably could have asked anyone in the venue the night before and they'd have told him the same thing, but his dreams hadn't been haunted by appreciative fans. The only person whose praise and admiration he found himself desiring in that moment was the Australian currently looking through her phone records with wide eyes rather than staring at him. He didn't like it.

He inclined his head at Belle with a smirk. "I think that this one would beg to differ, yeah? Not much of a rock girl, I hear."

He immediately felt guilty for saying it. The shyness he'd picked up from Aurora was suddenly gone and replaced with a scolding, bossy posture he knew all too well. It was the same one Emma used when she wanted to make him feel terrible for something he'd done.

"It's okay," He found himself amending quickly. He hadn't realized he was throwing Belle under the goddamn bus, and he held up his hands. "Was just a joke."

By the time Belle tore her eyes away from her phone, her friend was looking at her like she'd just desecrated a piece of fine art, and Belle flinched.

"I never said—"

"She had fun." Aurora told him, cutting Belle off. "She just wanted to go to _Broadway _instead."

"Broadway?" The disbelief was evident in the way the word fell helplessly from his lips, and he cursed himself. He didn't know what to do about a girl who preferred Broadway to his shows.

"I enjoyed the show." Belle mumbled, avoiding eye contact with both of them. She seemed embarrassed. "But some sightseeing would have been nice. We're only in town until tomorrow morning, and we spent all day yesterday in line for your show, that's all." She rubbed the toe of her sneaker on the concrete. "Speaking of that, we should probably—"

She had no reason to want to spend time with him. She was a girl who preferred Broadway to Fable, finding her friends to having a drink and sharing an evening with him. Stripped of his fame, he was no more than an arrogant bastard who'd gone down far too many wrong paths, and he had literally nothing to offer her company-wise. He didn't know how to carry on a conversation with such an intelligent young thing—good lord, what would they _talk _about? Nevertheless, he found himself blurting out the words before he could think better of them.

"Let me show you the sights."

Blue and brown eyes shot up his face in disbelief, and he cleared his throat, trying to force some of that languid arrogance into his tone as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He was Fable's lead fucking singer. He was _famous. _This was no time to start falling over himself over some little thing just because she'd given him the opportunity to spend time with her.

"I mean, I can show you around the city. If you'd like." He waved a hand to gesture to the enormous building next to them and, on a larger scale, Manhattan itself. "I've got nothing going on today."

Belle was staring at him the same way she had last night when he'd assumed she was some groupie looking for a casual evening; puzzled and completely at a loss for what to say. Aurora, on the other hand, was staring at him as if he'd just bloody proposed.

A quick glance at her friend, and Gold was certain Belle was going to turn him down, but when her friend only nodded in encouragement Belle turned back to him, some of the bewilderment leaving her eyes, replaced by a warm smile. "Uhm, sure. Why not?"

He suddenly realized he'd involuntarily invited _both_ of them, and he swallowed a growl. He wanted to spend time with _Belle_, not her and her friend. Not that he cared about the young lass in any sort of way that would require them to be alone, it was just…

As if she'd read his mind, Aurora spared him the work of finding a way to get her to leave the two of them alone when she patted Belle on the shoulder a moment later. She was already backing quickly away, making a frantic but appallingly poor attempt at being subtle when she pantomimed for Belle to text her. "Well, I should get back to the hotel room. Ruby and Mary Margaret are going to worry if neither of us shows back up. I'll see you later, Belle!"

They watched as Aurora hurried away without a single glance back, and Belle turned to look at him when her friend disappeared from sight. She looked about as ready to crawl into a hole and hide as he felt, and it eased his anxiety a little bit.

"Well lass," He smiled indulgently at her, jerking his chin in the direction of the enormous building they stood beside. "It seems a shame to make you come all the way out here and not go inside. Shall we?"

They'd barely stepped inside the doors when he felt eyes on him, and he paused in the expansive lobby to glance around, finally catching Emma's eye from where she was lounging in one of the couches. The younger woman raised her coffee cup to him in salute, making no move to stand, and the pleased smirk on her face made him roll his eyes.

"Swan came with you?" Belle asked at his elbow. When he glanced at her, she was looking between the two of them curiously.

"She makes a habit of being my shadow, but she won't bother us." He responded easily, and the strangest expression crossed Belle's face. He nodded towards the ticket line. "Shall we?"

Even without the younger woman directly following him, knowing she was waiting made him suddenly feel like an awkward teen on a chaperoned date. Not that it was a date. Or that he'd ever been an awkward teen who'd ever gone on anything chaperoned. Still, feeling Emma's eyes on his back while they waited in line made him work hard not to squirm. She'd be teasing him relentlessly for this when it was over; spending time with some random girl that had him so easily in her thrall.

They were stuffed together in the crowded elevator when Belle finally turned to him and asked the question that explained the perplexed expression she'd been wearing since they walked into the lobby.

"So, uhm..How long have you and Swan been together?"

"How long have we-Oh, no." He barked a laugh. "Emma is my sister."

"Oh!" Belle responded, and that charming blush was back on her cheeks. "I'm sorry! You two don't even look alike, so I just assumed-"

He couldn't help himself, he sniggered. "Everyone does, lass. No harm done. She's not blood, but she's the closest I have to family, yeah?"

"So her real name is Emma, then?" Belle asked, and he cursed himself for speaking so candidly. She was a sharp little thing, it seemed. He needed to be more careful about his words. When he nodded hesitantly, she raised an eyebrow at him. "May I ask why she goes by the other name?"

He glanced pointedly at the full elevator around them before responding, and he couldn't help the smile that grew on his lips at her boldness. "This is a conversation for another time, lass."

* * *

It wasn't until they stepped out of the elevator and into the open air of the 86th floor and the sudden, dizzying view of Manhattan immediately made him ill that he remembered that, while afraid of very few things, he was bloody _terrified _of heights.

"Can you believe we're a _quarter mile _above the city?" She asked excitedly.

He didn't realize he'd stopped following Belle until she turned and gave him a quizzical look from the buildings edge, where she stood with the rest of the crowd.

"Aren't you coming?" She shouted.

He'd never admit it, but just _watching_ her lean over the edge as far as the lengthy safety precautions would let her made his stomach turn, and he had to resist the urge to shake his head and step back closer to the elevator.

No wonder she was so consistently unimpressed with him, he realized. From the moment they'd met, he'd done nothing but make a bloody fool of himself. The top of the goddamn Empire State Building? What had he been _thinking?_

He fell back to his foolproof method of dealing with things that unnerved him, and the languid, graceful arrogance and apathy he channeled thankfully didn't fail him when he crossed his arms and looked away from her in response. "You go ahead."

He hadn't been expecting her warm hand to wrap around his wrist a moment later, and the unexpected touch was an electrical jolt to his senses that had him snapping his gaze up to her in surprise.

"Come on," She coaxed, and it was clear that his attempts at hiding his own fear had been in vain when she smiled kindly at him and tugged on his arm. "You didn't pay good money to stand in the middle of the building, did you?"

He wasn't sure _what _he'd paid for at this point, but it certainly hadn't been to act like a damned fool in front of Belle.

_Don't be a coward_. He argued with himself. _If a wee girl can do it, so can you._

His legs were trembling as he forced himself to match Belle step for step, and when they reached the edge he glanced at her with a practiced look of nonchalance to prove that, whatever she thought of him, he wasn't afraid. That he was tough and above any sort of ridicule.

Her eyes widened at whatever expression he actually wore, and just as he was preparing himself for a ridiculous giggle or a roll of her eyes, her warm hand descended over the white-knuckled death grip his callused hands had on the safety bar. She smiled reassuringly at him, leaning forward to speak to him over the wind.

"Don't worry," She promised. "You're not going to fall."

He eyed the enormous steel fence that circled the building to keep him from just that, knowing she was right but failing to care. His voice was bitter. "No, but if the wind catches me it could bloody rip me off the building."

Belle just smiled at him. "Would you like to look over the edge?"

He absolutely did _not_, but Belle's warm hand covering his reminded him that this was _not_ the time for being a coward, and he reluctantly steeled himself and glanced over the precariously steep edge.

His sunglasses promptly fell from his nose, and the two of them watched in disbelief as they fell several stories before landing on a terrace below. He'd just begun to grind his teeth and curse the supposed merits of facing ones fears when Belle surprised him yet again.

"Oh no!" Belle cried, sounding far more upset than she had a right to be. Her expression was apologetic when she looked up at him a moment later. "Those were nice sunglasses!"

He'd been angry to lose them, but her overwhelming compassion completely disarmed him, and he found himself shrugging. "They're just glasses, yeah? I can get new ones."

She leaned over the edge again, making his stomach swim. "I can see them on one of the lower balconies. Do you want to go get them? They might still be okay."

It had taken every last ounce of his self-control to not grab her around the waist and haul her away from the precarious drop the second she'd bent over, and his fingers twitched nervously when she made no move to straighten up.

His voice was more of a whimper than the rough, commanding tone he'd been going for. "If you'll stop bloody _doing that_, I'll do anything you want. You're scaring the years off of me, lass!"

She sat up, leaning in and frowning at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

The part of him that still had pride left sighed in relief. "Nothing. Let's just go find my glasses."

* * *

It took some guesswork, but after visiting a few floors they finally stepped out onto the right terrace together, and Belle made another upset sound when he knelt down and picked up his shattered aviators from the concrete.

Eager to lighten her mood, and in need of a distraction from his dire need for one of the smokes he hadn't brought with him, he held up the broken frames to her in amusement.

"At least they didn't fall all the way down, yeah? Imagine some bloke down there getting these through his skull."

Her response was immediate, as was the charming way her lip curved up in a wry smile. "That's not scientifically possible."

"But if you drop a penny-"

She just shook her head. "That's a myth."

He eyed her suspiciously. "How do you know?"

"I'm a bit of a bookworm." The way she uttered the words made it sound like she was confessing to a crippling disease, and he could only quirk an eyebrow at her before tugging the broken glasses back over his face.

"Okay, Bookworm. How do I look?"

Belle shook her head with a laugh. "Sorry, I don't think you can pull it off."

He took them off, tossing them into one of the decorative bushes that lined the area with a sigh. "Damn. So much for being bloody incognito."

Belle suddenly looked concerned. "Oh! I forgot-I suppose you needed those, didn't you?"

The fact that she'd _forgotten_ who he was should have probably wounded his ego, but he found himself shrugging instead. "They were doing a bit of a shit job anyway. My eyes aren't what's gonna get me recognized on the street."

Belle laughed, waving a hand towards her temples. "It's this, to be honest. It's a little telling to see gray on such a young guy."

He was appalled by himself when he felt his face heat in pleasure at her words, and he smoothed the tufts behind his ears. "Oh, I'm probably much older than you, love."

"Hmm." She put a hand on her chin thoughtfully. "Thirty..."

He sighed. "Thirty one."

She perked up at that, and he would have given anything to know why she seemed so pleased. "See? You aren't that much older than me."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. He wasn't going to ask. _He wasn't bloody going to ask. _It didn't matter how old she was-

"Yeah? And you're what? Nineteen, twenty?"

Belle rolled her eyes. "Don't even try to be charming. I just graduated college. I'm twenty five."

He hated himself for the rush of hope her words produced in him. Twenty five. Twenty five was nowhere _near _jailbait age. At twenty five, she was a woman. She was a college _graduate_, for fucks sake.

She was also younger than Emma.

Flinching at that thought, he pointed a thumb back towards the building, eager to get out and away from the embarrassing nightmare it had become. "Fair enough, love. Shall we move on, or would you rather spend the whole day up here?"

* * *

They were in the elevator, packed together with other tourists when Belle spoke again, and when he glanced over at her she was looking up at him curiously. "Can I ask you something?"

He blinked at her. "Yes?"

"Why did you invite me out here? Not that I don't appreciate it, it's just-You must have plenty of other things you'd rather be doing."

He snorted. "Well, you _did_ ruin my full schedule of watching reruns of Cops and Pawn Stars."

She was suddenly staring up at him in disbelief, her eyes wide. "You've been to New York enough times that you don't even leave your _hotel room?"_

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his tone dismissive. "The cities run together after a while, lass."

He knew it wasn't the only question she wanted to ask, and he watched the floor numbers shrink as the elevator descended. The doors had just opened to the lobby when she continued. "Can I ask you something else?"

He almost smirked. "Shoot."

He'd been expecting her to ask about why he'd chosen _her_ to spend the day with, or to ask if this was, in fact, a date. Or maybe to ask if he was expecting anything to come from their day, or why the fuck he was bending backwards in an attempt to please a girl he barely knew.

Her question, when it finally came, completely disarmed him. "How many countries have you been to?"

His laugh came before he had even registered her question, and he gave her a rare, genuine smile as they stepped out of the elevator together.

"Which ones _haven't_ I been to?"

* * *

Belle had been following his lead all afternoon; letting him make good on his promise to show her a fun time in New York, and he hoped he hadn't disappointed.

She'd politely declined any tall attractions when he suggested them; a kindness he was grateful for, and by late afternoon he'd managed to take her to see the Statue of Liberty from across the harbor, had purchased hot dogs for lunch in Times Square, and had even led her through a corner of Central Park; all the things that he thought a young woman would want to see from the big apple.

She'd cooed with polite interest at each one, citing off interesting tidbits and facts about each location that he took at face value, amused that she seemed to know more about them than he did.

It was nearly four when, wiping sweat from their brows, he led her into the Museum of Natural History to cool off in the air conditioning for a few minutes and all of his presumptions about the polite, soft-spoken woman he'd spent the afternoon with were thrown out the window.

"Oh my God!" Belle exclaimed loudly, making him nearly jump out of his skin, and he turned to her in alarm to see a hungry, excited look in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. "I never thought-I've _dreamed_ about this place!"

He forced his eyebrows to stop trying to touch his hairline and swallowed. He knew how to handle that kind of enthusiasm when it was directed at himand hismusic, but he'd never seen it directed towards a place of learning before, and he was at a loss. He _despised_ museums, but Belle seemed ecstatic to just be inside the doors of the place, and her smile was doing strange things to his heartbeat. He realized now that she'd only had a passing interest in the sights they'd seen already, but she seemed legitimately excited about this one, so he pointed a thumb towards the exhibits with a warm smile.

"Well, dream no more, lass. Shall we take a look?"

Her face fell when they approached the ticket counter and she saw the prices for admission, and he nearly threw his wallet through the little window in his haste to get her smile to return.

"Please!" Belle exclaimed, fishing in her purse for her billfold. "That isn't necessary. Let me pay you back."

He waved her off in good humor, laughing. "Please, Belle. A twenty dollar ticket is hardly going to hurt my bottom line, yeah?"

She made a face but didn't complain when he handed her a ticket, and he had to resist the urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders as they stepped through the gates together. He'd learned over the course of the day that Belle was a very tactile person, and he was certain she wouldn't mind the friendly gesture, but he was nervous about allowing himself the luxury.

Truth be told, he'd become rather fascinated by the young woman, and over the course of the day his courteous friendliness had evolved into something more, and he'd found himself in need of guarding more than his tongue around her. It wouldn't do to end the evening hoping in vain for something the girl wasn't interested in.

She was silent as they stepped into the atrium of the first exhibit, and when he glanced over at her she was staring around with wide, reverent eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. He'd seen that look often enough in other people to realize she was trying to reel in her excitement, and that simply would not do.

He nudged her gently in the ribs with his elbow, smiling warmly when she looked distractedly over at him to show that he was game for whatever she thought too embarrassing to show in front of him. "Well? Where to first, lass?"

He'd guessed right, and the short walk had been the last bit of quiet between them. Two hours later, she was still talking; _gushing_ over the exhibits, and he wondered more than once why she was reading the informational cards in front of each mummy and pile of bones and stuffed beastie at all when she seemed to know everything about them already.

He learned quickly that if he stood back from the exhibits and asked enough polite questions, by the time she'd finished with one room she was bursting with excitement over the next and she'd grab him by the wrist, forgetting for a minute that they were strangers who had nothing in common and drag him along with her to the next old thing to look at. He'd then wait, listening to her beautiful little accent wash over him, teaching him about all manners of things while he plotted his plan of attack for the next room.

He'd never liked museums, but he could suddenly see the appeal.

"What did you bloody go to college for, _everything?"_ He teased as she led him through the entryway to an exhibit of dinosaurs. He inwardly squirmed with pleasure when she dragged him right up to the first enormous display of bones and was so eager to see it that she didn't let go of him.

He was a fucking prepubescent schoolboy all over again; enjoying the innocent touch of a girl entirely too much, but he'd lost the ability to care.

"English Literature," She replied distractedly, her fingers curled loosely around his wrist. The urge to shimmy his hand into her palm and twine his fingers with hers was overwhelming, and he distracted himself by watching the concentration on her face as she read the little display for the beast.

"Could have fooled me." He said, the corner of his lip curling upwards in a half smile. "You seem to be a master of all knowledge." It wasn't until she glanced up at him in surprise that he realized just how thick with admiration his words had been, and he quickly looked up at the gigantic bones with feigned interest, trying to distract her. "Uh, which is this one?"

"A T-Rex," Belle said, sounding confused. "Weren't you just reading the little placard with me?"

Shit. Caught, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and gave her a rueful smile, lying through his teeth. "Dinosaurs aren't really my thing, lass."

He was fascinated when, rather than letting go of him and being put-out, she held his hand firmly in her own before tugging him along. She hadn't skipped a single display in the entire time they'd been there, but she led him patiently past the entire wing dedicated to dinosaurs.

"Belle, wait." He cried once he realized what she was doing, and he dug in in his heels. "I didn't mean to offend you. Please, let's look at the dinosaurs."

She just shook her head, leading him into the next exhibit of prehistoric animals. "I don't want to bore you."

He tugged her to a stop, speaking sincerely when she looked up at him. "You don't. I'm not."

"I know I can get carried away in museums," She mumbled dejectedly, sounding as if she were confessing a terrible secret, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I'm having fun." She gave him a serious, disbelieving look, and he smiled at her. "Promise."

She just laughed, shaking her head, and he stared at her in confusion.

"What?" He asked. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," She said, playing with the hem of her tank top before giving him a fragile little smile. "It's just, most people-You really don't care?"

He shook his head. "Not a bit."

They were interrupted by the sound of Belle's phone beeping in her purse, and she dug the little device out, her face falling when she saw the screen.

"Something wrong?" He asked, concerned.

"It's my friends," She said, giving him an apologetic look as her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I need to get back to the hotel."

"No problem. I'll walk you out?" He offered, following her through the nearly empty museum to the front doors.

"I had a really great time today," Belle murmured, giving him a dazzling little smile. "Thank you."

"Well, it was no bloody Broadway, but I do hope I made up for you being dragged to my show, yeah?" He teased, amused when she immediately blushed.

"I wasn't—" She huffed, laughing. "Yes. More than. Please tell me that's not why you did this."

"Nah," He responded, chuckling as he opened the door to the outside for her. "Even if it was, I had too good a time to bloody complain about it now."

His phone vibrated, and when he pulled it from back pocket he very nearly laughed. He hadn't realized the time, but he had a ridiculous number of missed calls from Regina. There would be hell to pay when he got back to the hotel, but he didn't care. He'd been serious in his comment; he'd had more fun with Belle than he had in a long, long time.

"Something wrong?" She asked.

He snorted. "It seems that I should probably head home, too."

"Past your bedtime?" She teased as they stepped out into the night air together, and he laughed.

"You have no idea, lass. My manager can be…oppressive." He walked her to one of the yellow cabs idling at the curb, leaning against the doorframe when she sat down in the backseat. "I am, however, free tomorrow. Maybe we could…"

Her crestfallen expression had him coming up short, and he felt pain twist in his belly as her shoulders slumped again.

"I'm sorry," She said, giving him a sad smile. "I wish I could, but we're leaving in the morning."

"You're leaving?" He replied, hating the panic that bubbled up inside of him. She wasn't allowed to leave. They'd just met. Shit. When in the hell had he become so attached to a woman he'd just met?

"We're on a road trip," She explained, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the concrete. "We're spending the summer travelling the States." She gave him a confused look. "Aren't you leaving too?"

"Not for another day," He grumbled, perking up as a thought crossed his mind. "Wait, where are you going?"

Belle just stared at him in incomprehension. "Uhm, I don't know. Somewhere to the west, I think? We don't really have a set plan yet."

It was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He needed to let her go; he needed to let this beautiful, intelligent young woman close the damned cab door and drive out of his life before he did something even more foolish than spending the entire day with her.

Instead, the cab crawled forward an inch and he leaned down into the cab so fast that he nearly knocked his head on the roof, alarming Belle in the process. "Wait!"

She was staring at him with wide eyes. "Yes?"

The cab driver twisted around in his seat, glaring at him through the glass.

"I'm not getting paid for you two to chatter on. In or out, buddy."

Belle had slid over to make room for him before he'd even had the chance to glare back at the driver. "Here, get in."

He climbed in beside her and shut the door.

"Where to?" The man growled.

"Just a second." He barked back, and Belle was looking at him in wry amusement when he finally returned his attention to her.

"You were saying?"

"I just had a thought." He responded, pulling his phone from his back pocket and texting Emma quickly before he spoke again. The woman had left them behind after the Empire State Building, and he was suddenly eternally grateful that she'd left them to their own devices. "Do you mind dropping me off at my hotel before you head home?"

* * *

Emma was standing at the curb looking amused when they pulled up to the Waldorf-Astoria twenty minutes later, and he grabbed the envelope she passed through the window to him before turning back to Belle.

"This is a complicated thought," Belle mused, and he felt his face heat.

"I—Uh," He cleared his throat, trying desperately for some shred of the nonchalant arrogance he'd always been able to conjure so easily before. "Okay, I know you said you aren't really a rock girl, but it's also not really fair that your only impression of us nearly got you killed, so…"

Her eyes widened when she opened the envelope he handed to her. "Are these—"

"It's our next show," He explained. "It's not for a few days, but it's in Chicago, and there's enough there for you and your friends if you wanted to come." He smiled wryly at her. "I mean, you should at least have a Fable experience that involves at least one of us not getting mauled before you make up your mind about us, yeah?"

She laughed. "Well, I'd have to see what the others wanted to do—"

"You don't need to answer." He closed her fingers over the envelope before he opened the cab door and climbed out, leaning down to look at her. "Keep them, and if I see you I see you, yeah?"

She just stared at him for a long moment, a little smile on her face before she eased out of the car and stood, planting a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth that had him frozen on the spot.

"I don't know what to think of you, Rumplestiltskin." She finally admitted. "You keep surprising me."

"Trust me, lass." He replied with a laugh, using every last shred of his self-control to not turn his head and kiss her properly. "The feeling is mutual."

* * *

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for your awesome reviews. I'm super excited that you guys are enjoying Rockstar!Rumple just as much as I'm enjoying writing it. :D**

**I've been asked a couple times what the musical inspiration for Fable is, which is an excellent question. Right now, it's a mix between Gossip, Metric, and Strata, among others. I have a playlist that I use for inspiration that I'll post to my tumblr if I get enough interest in it. :) **


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